


chipped nail polish

by abqbitch



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Fluff, Jesse is bi, Soft.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28850124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abqbitch/pseuds/abqbitch
Summary: Teenage Jesse is confused about his sexuality and is worried about how his aunt and other people will view him.She cares for him, naturally.a good friend requested this work
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	chipped nail polish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solivaganteros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solivaganteros/gifts).



Jesse looked out the window, his eyes fixated on the sway of the low shrubbery in front of his house. The desert stretched for miles — there was no end in sight, and Jesse felt the same way. His mind was clouded, and he just wanted to go back to normal. His brain kept throwing questions at him, and his unsure answers only seemed to multiply the incessant asking. He doubted himself, and he doubted his feelings. 

He tilted his head, his eyes still staring at the horizon, a disappointed exhale exiting through his nose. Weighed down by stress, he weakly lifted his finger up to his lips and began gnawing at the jagged edge of the nail. A wave of soothing reassurance surged through his veins, and he felt slightly calmer. Despite this, his thoughts were still tangled together, worries and doubts and awful realizations all each a tiny sting to his heart. 

Turning away from the window, Jesse grabbed his phone. He bit the inner tissue in his cheek, a glimmer of panic present in his pupils. As he read over the contacts in his phone, he thought about each reaction to the sudden recent realizations. Jesse  _ hated  _ showing his emotions, and he had been pressured into hiding them all the time. Yet he was sitting here, nearly trembling, scrolling through his friends and playing out a scenario where they would all angrily leave Jesse to fend for himself alone. 

He had heard plenty of stories of teenagers being overdramatic. He considered for a moment if he had become another stereotype. A pang of discomfort shot through his arm as he pressed his fingernails into his skin. 

_ No,  _ he thought,  _ I swear I’m not overreacting. _

As expected, his thoughts immediately caved in to form one singular thought:  _ what if? _

The sound of his screeching door caused him to jolt. His torso swiveled to face the visitor, and he was greeted with the face of his warm, caring aunt Ginny, clutching a steaming mug of tea.

“Here you go, honey,” she murmured gently, placing the mug on his nightstand. His innocent eyes followed her as she straightened her back. 

“Thanks,” he quietly responded, immediately flicking his eyes to the tea when his aunt looked back at him. He dug his nails into his skin once again, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tear streaks on his cheeks, or the red patches of skin on his lips, or the irritated skin on his arms, or his frantic eyes. He couldn’t accept help.  _ I need to take care of it on my own. Boys never show emotions,  _ he thought. 

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten all morning.” Her eyes were soft, circles of warm chocolate, surrounded by lines in her skin from the constant passage of time. Coincidentally, Jesse felt his stomach grumble, threatening to grow in volume, daring to reveal that he hadn’t eaten much in the past few days at all.

“Not… really, thanks.” Instinctually, he brought his hand up to his mouth and nibbled on a different nail.

“Are you sure? I can make you some toast, dear.” She reached out towards him, her frail fingers pressing against Jesse’s shoulder. He smiled briefly, shrugging her hand off.

“Yeah, I’m fine, aunt Ginny.” His eyes met hers for a moment before he diverted his attention to the hot tea she had brought him. He inhaled the fumes, feeling the warmth beat against his face. It for sure didn’t solve all of his problems, but it felt good, he admitted.

She pursed her lips in slight concern. “If you say so,” she chuckled, leaving the room. She was not the kind of woman to prod anyone. Force didn’t fit well on her. She was lighthearted, laid-back, serene. She could enforce rules if she needed to, but she would never raise her voice, and she was never aggressive. Jesse nearly idolized her.

He returned to his tea, plunging his nose deeper inside of the mug. After inhaling again, he lifted the cup up to his lips. Warmth surged through his body, calming his nerves. Taking a deep breath, Jesse took another sip. When he reopened his eyes, he was staring at a chipped patch of paint on his wall. Running his tongue along the ridges of the roof of his mouth, Jesse took another deep breath. 

In a few minutes, the mug was half-empty. Jesse left his bed, trudging out into the living room where his aunt sat, a book in her hands, deep in concentration while her eyes trailed over each line. His hands were still tightly wrapped around the blue mug as he approached her, his expression apprehensive.

He stood patiently next to her for a few moments before she daintily lifted her head to look at him. 

“Hey, honey, did you finish your tea?” Her eyebrows gently raised.

“No, not yet,” he muttered faintly. She shot him a warm glance, putting her book down as she leaned over. Her delicate hands laid on Jesse’s, gently gripping him while she looked into his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Jesse’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Nothing,” he chuckled nervously, immediately splitting eye contact with his aunt. He bit down on his fingernails yet again, feeling the nauseating anxiety surge through his veins like it had plenty of times earlier that morning. Hunger, in addition to his panic, gnawed at the lining of his stomach, growling and hissing quietly. 

“Don’t bite your fingernails, sweetie,” she advised calmly, pulling his hands towards her. “Hold on a minute, I’m going to go make you toast, do you want anything else?” 

Jesse shook his head. He exhaled silently in frustration.

Ginny bound off to the kitchen. Jesse stayed in place, his mind racing with the same recurring thoughts, but Ginny’s advice as well. He blinked innocently, his teeth subconsciously sinking into the soft flesh of his lip. 

In the next few minutes, Ginny returned holding two pieces of toast. She set it in front of Jesse, pursing her lips as she turned away, making her way to her bedroom. His eyebrows slightly curled in confusion as he leaned over, his teeth sinking into the bread while trying to make sense of what his aunt was doing.

She came out of the room. Jesse faced the armchair Ginny was returning to, swallowing his food and pausing to sip his now room-temperature tea. In her hands she held three fingernail polish bottles — one pink, one blue, and one clear.

“What are you…” Jesse trailed off, his gaze following the tiny bottles. Ginny shot him a reassuring smile.

“When you’re done eating your toast, give me your hands, honey.” She lifted the blue nail polish bottle away from her face, squinting gently as she examined the print. He bit into his toast slowly, still overwhelmingly confused. He was not only confused because of what his aunt was doing, yet he was confused because he genuinely _ hoped  _ she was going to offer to paint his nails. He  _ wanted _ to learn how to paint his own nails, and that was what confused him most.

He finished his toast in less than a minute. He nervously laid his hands out on the table between them, his fingers slightly twitching in addition. His gaze flicked from his hands to his aunt, studying her expression while she set the bottles out in front of him.

“Do you want pink or blue, Jesse?” 

The first thing his mind went to is what he answered: “Pink.”

“Okay,” she murmured, smiling to herself. She opened the pink bottle, the fumes wafting through his nose immediately. It was an extremely strong smell, yet he was more intrigued by it than disgusted. Ginny lightly lifted his index finger, brushing the polish against his nail. He enjoyed how gentle and soothing it felt. 

“You want to go the same way when you paint your nails,” she hummed, “or else it looks different than the rest of your nail. But if you like how it looks, you can do that, too, I guess.” She chuckled to herself for a moment before regaining her composure. 

She was finished with most of his left hand. She beckoned for him to turn his hand, and he obeyed, allowing her to paint his thumbnail. His eyes followed his thumb after she let it go, and he stared at his hand. His expression was virtually blank. 

“If you don’t like it, that’s okay, I can get it off right now if you want.” She watched him, concern tugging at her heart. Jesse blinked a few times, and then matched her gaze.

“No,” he answered. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I like it.” 

“Okay, you want me to do the other hand?”

“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. 

She chuckled, her concentration returning to Jesse’s fingernails. She continued to paint them, speaking up once in a while to make sure Jesse was still okay with it.

“Aunt Ginny, would you be mad if I said that I think I might like boys, too?” Jesse’s expression echoed terror. Her eyebrows raised in gentle surprise — not because of his realization, yet because he expected her to be upset with him.

“Of course not, Jesse.” She paused from painting his nails for a moment. “Some people like the same gender, some people like other genders, some people like both or all or none. It’s normal, honey, and I wouldn’t ever be mad at you for that.” Relief flowed through his body, and he felt the brush against his nails again.

“Okay,” he muttered, inhaling sharply. 

“I’m never going to judge you for anything, Jesse. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to take care of you, and neither of us are gonna get anywhere if I yell at you all the time. You can tell me about anything, okay?” Her eyes flicked up to his, empathy radiating in her gaze. He shared her gaze for a second as he nodded briefly.

“Thanks.” He let out what was between a chuckle and a sigh. His aunt smiled at him. He returned the smile, yet a genuine one this time.


End file.
